


Clean

by JayTheCappy



Series: A story of you [1]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Explicit Rape, Other, Vent Piece, old works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTheCappy/pseuds/JayTheCappy
Summary: “I love you.”He leaves you as you are, naked and defiled, alone in the cold room. You make your way to the shower in the corner of the room, standing in the spray as it grows hot. It burns you, but you do nothing to change that as you wash yourself. It is a long time before you turn the water off, blankly watching the soap swirl down the drain.You are not clean.You do not remember the last time you were.
Series: A story of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023097
Kudos: 1





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old piece I wrote when I was younger. I think it holds up alright.

His hand touches your face and you feel your stomach turn.  
  
“The best part of it is, it isn’t rape.”  
  
His hand slips lower, and as it brushes over your neck, you whine. You ache for it to clamp down, ache for him to throw you against the floor and choke the life from you. Everything is so vague here, a blur of cold and hunger. The burning flare of pain is the only light you have, the only thing to stand in contrast to your endless, grey existence. But his hand moves on and your whimper dies away as it settles at your chest, stroking gently.  
  
_Please,_ you think, _don’t. Don’t do this again. I can’t take this._ But you say nothing.  
  
“I know you. I know you want it.”  
  
No, you don’t.  
  
He pinches and you gasp, squirming away. It only encourages him to bear down, and your voice peaks, breaking before you manage to silence yourself. He smirks, and his hand wanders further, following the curve of your stomach. Your own hands clench uselessly behind your back. Chained as you are, you can do nothing. He grabs your chin, tipping your face up, and you close your eyes as he kisses you.  
  
He tastes of sweetness, some delicate fruit whose name you’ve forgotten, and you bite back another whine as your stomach clenches. You cannot remember the last time you ate. He doesn’t feed you. Your thoughts scatter again as your head starts to spin, and you struggle, pulling away from the kiss to breathe. He lets you, but you can see in his eyes that he is disappointed.  
  
His hand slips farther, settling between your legs, and your stomach does another flip. You know already how the night will go. You hope against all hope that you are wrong. But his hand moves, and you bow your head, surrendering to the inevitable. He knows your body, and works you like a puppet, forcing you from your silence as he strokes you and purrs.  
  
“That’s it…” He pushes you back, and you splay on the cold ground without resistance, shifting until your hands settle into the curve of your back. They will still go numb, but for now, it helps. His hand is still moving, but it changes without warning and you arch, a slow, shuddering motion that wracks your body like throes of death. Your lips part, and hateful moans spill out before you can bite them back.  
  
“I knew you’d come around,” he croons. You can hear the smile in his voice as he shifts, settling closer to you. His hand moves again and your head tips back suddenly, slamming against the concrete. You hate this. You hate him.  
  
His fingers are at your lips, pressing into your mouth, stroking your tongue. You suppress the urge to gag and close your mouth around them. This is the only kindness he offers, and you won’t waste it. You lick and suck, closing your eyes and forcing down the shame chewing its way up your throat.  
  
“Look at me while you do it.”  
  
Your eyes stay closed, and you hear him snarl. He yanks his hand from your mouth and you brace yourself. The slap whips your face to the side, lighting up your cheek with bright, dizzying pain. You focus on it, trace the shape of the impact on your face in your mind. It is not enough. His fingers are inside you without warning, without preparation.  
  
You scream.

By the time your voice falters, dropping away from the wordless cry, you are begging. He is moving too fast. It hurts and you are helpless as he laughs, pressing deeper to the cadence of your screams. You rock up, pulling away from the pain, but he follows. His hand is on your throat, pinning you in place as he lifts your hips.  
  
_I’m not ready_ , you wail. _I need time, please for once have mercy._  
  
He shoves forward and your mind goes blank.  
  
_It hurts._  
  
_It’s too much._  
  
You’re thrashing uselessly beneath him, arching and bucking in a vain attempt to break free, to squirm away. His hand is on your shoulder, pinning you as he shifts, drawing your hips up with him. You’ve gone silent, stealing useless gasps of air through the lump in your throat as he moves. He leans over you, kissing tears from your face, and you retreat.  
  
You watch silently as he ravages your body, as it moves and moans with him, writhing beneath his touch. You wait through the filthy language, praises and threats falling around you like wilted roses. You hear his voice hitch, see the familiar expression as he finishes, pulling free of you. But you are not there.  
  
His hand returns to your face, brushing the hair away before shifting behind your neck, lifting you gently. The other finds the chain binding your wrists, dropping it to the floor with a deafening clatter. He kisses you again, murmuring those detestable words.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
He leaves you as you are, naked and defiled, alone in the cold room. As time passes, you come back to yourself. The process is slow and painful, but in time, you lift yourself from the floor, staggering a bit before you manage to find your feet. You make your way to the shower in the corner of the room, standing in the spray as it grows hot. It burns you, but you do nothing to change that as you wash yourself. It is a long time before you turn the water off, blankly watching the soap swirl down the drain.  
  
You are not clean.  
  
You do not remember the last time you were.


End file.
